Zero
by Hybridlovelies
Summary: Two people, one night, zero regrets. But what happens when the best-sex-ever shows up in the worst possible place? Will they become friends, friends-with-benefits, or something more? An Olicity No-Island AU. Total rom-com-esque. Bonus! Tommy is alive and Sara is Felicity's BFF. ****ON HIATUS***
1. Chapter 1

**Hey readers! So here is the start of my new Olicity fic. A full fic this time! Some of you may have read the preview over on Tumblr, I urge you to read through again. I added/tweaked some details and made the writing a little better (since I was sick when I first typed it out).**

**This is my version of the "No-Island AU". . . only a bit more AU-y instead of just straight up no-island. A few character histories/relationships are different and I'm just writing for fun. So if you don't like rom-com sort of AU's then move along. Although I promise a good mix of comedy, sex, angst, fluff, and Olicity :)**

**Enjoy!**

**p.s. The title is inspired by the song "Zero" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I was listening to it when I came up with this idea and imagine it playing during the "hi" scene.**

* * *

Green, green, red, green, blue, blue, red, green, red.

Every time she blinked the world was painted in a different color. The bass from the oversized speakers drummed into her chest and synced up with the pattern of her heart. Her fingers reached up to adjust her glasses-a nervous tic she'd had since she'd gotten them at the age of eight-but they stopped short when she remembered that she had left her pink and black frames at home for the night, trading them out for her contacts instead. Her blue eyes popped from her frameless face, taking in all the activity around her. Felicity wasn't used to being in clubs. She'd been to a few in college, but her studious habits didn't leave much time for partying. She'd always preferred people to computers anyways.

Tonight there were people everywhere, but that was probably to be expected at Starling City's hottest new nightclub.

The clubbers covered the multiple bars, the dance floor, and the VIP loft above, circling around fancy tables and couches, whispering, laughing, dancing, and drinking. The merriment going on around her felt like some sort of modern day Roman myth come to life-the kind of parties you only read about in legends. In the back of her mind she wondered if the amount of bodies in the club didn't break some sort of fire code.

On cue an alarm went off and Felicity jumped, ready to spring for the doors, until she realized it was part of the DJ's mix and people were cheering as a harsh strobe flashed over the dance floor.

"Come on!"

A friendly hand slipped into hers and pulled her forward. She nearly stumbled on her high stiletto heels as she allowed herself to be dragged in the direction of the bar.

"Slow down there," Felicity said as her friend, Sara, pushed two beer-drinking guys out of the way and yanked her up against the bar. Her ribs hit the silver and she winced at her fellow blonde's excited face. "It's not like they're going to run out of alcohol."

"Shots!" Sara exclaimed holding her hand up to catch the bartender's attention. The guys she had thrust aside, who had been shooting annoyed looks in Sara's direction, seem to get over their irritation when they heard her alcoholic intentions . . . or maybe it was the way her boobs jiggled in her blue halter dress as she waved her hand over her head.

Felicity dropped her head into her hands, shaking it back and forth. Her normally smoothed curtain of hair, fell in textured sandy waves around her cheeks. She felt more comfortable for the moment. Hidden. "I'm going to regret this aren't I?"

"Shut up," Sara replied and turned to make her request to the bartender. "No regrets tonight, remember? We are Party Sara and Party Felicity and tonight we party."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "You're _always_ party Sara."

Sara had always been the fun one in the friendship. Sara liked to take risks and break curfew and stay out too late the night before a final. Carpe diem was her motto-or carpe noctrum rather, since Sara was much more of a night owl.

"And you're always Party Felicity," she nudged her. "Deep down."

Felicity wanted to argue. Felicity had _never_ been Party Felicity. She had been Brainy Felicity or Study All Night in the Library Felicity or Geek Felicity . . .but never Party Felicity.

To Felicity Smoak a party was good wine and conversation, or maybe DVDs on the couch with Chinese take out or pizza. Sara Lance was a whole other species. She liked going out. She liked flirting and men. She liked getting drunk and waving her body out the moon roof of a limo at prom and almost getting hit in the face by a low hanging street sign. Sara lived the life of Paris Hilton minus the gross sex tapes, and looked much prettier while doing it.

How they had became friends, Felicity never knew. They were opposites in almost every single way. She actually couldn't remember exactly what made them hit it off, but she was lucky to know her. Sara was crazy, but she was fun-and a great friend.

They were the same age. Felicity had grown up in Central City and met Sara when she moved there when they were ten. She did remember feeling a kinship to the girl after finding out she didn't have a dad. Felicity didn't have a dad either. Well she did, but he had abandoned her and her mom when she was five. Sara on the other hand-her parents were divorced. Her mom had moved to Central and Sara had gone with her. The rest was history.

"Tonight we party," Sara declared. "we celebrate, because on Monday you start your take over of Queen Consolidated."

Felicity giggled. "I'm not taking over the company. I don't know if tech girls are poised for company takeovers."

"Whatever. You're smarter than everyone who's running it already, no doubt."

"I can't argue there," Felicity agreed, without a hint of humility. If there was one thing Felicity was more than ready to brag about, it was her intelligence. She had no trouble in being proud of her brainy accomplishments. She had worked hard in high school and college, graduating at the top of her classes, with full scholarships and an excellent job waiting for her now that the summer was at an end.

It was a shame she was surrounded by people who were much more interested in beauty rather than brains at the moment.

It was Felicity's brain and superior computer skills that had gotten them in the club in the first place. If anyone ever asked her about hacking, she would swear it was nothing more than a hobby . . . that she did not engage in. However, breaking around the barriers of Starling City's hottest nightclub, Verdant, and slapping both her and Sara's names on the guest list didn't hurt anyone. It was like she was endangering national security. She'd done it a million times, any time there was an event she and Sara wanted to sneak into, and they hadn't once been caught.

The bartender returned to them and lined up two shot glasses in front of Felicity and then two in front of Sara, pairing both sets with a salt shaker and a slice of lime. Felicity arched a brow. " Tequila. You really _do_ plan on getting smashed tonight."

Sara threw an arm around her neck. "And you're coming with me." She raised the shot glass up in front of Felicity's face, a little bit of liquid spilling out over the side.

Felicity conceded. She'd gotten a new dress and her hair done for this. The dress was green, and hugged her body like a second skin. It covered her arms and stopped at her thighs, but the back was wide open.

Tonight she would be Sara Lance or Party Felicity or whoever it was that let go and broke a few rules and made a few mistakes. She'd drink the Kool-Aid-or tequila as it were-and go with the party flow.

Felicity clinked her shot glass against Sara's. "Let's do this."

.

.

.

"You're a free man!"

Tommy clapped his hand over his shoulder, giving him a friendly and encouraging shake. Oliver threw a grin toward his best friend. It was his Starling grin. The one that said he was the king of this city and he knew it. Well . . . maybe not king yet. That title probably still belonged to his father. But Oliver Queen still ruled this town. He was modern day royalty in the flesh.

And after a year he was back on the prowl.

His eyes scanned the dance floor of the club-his club-the one that he and Tommy started six months ago. They'd spent three months researching and getting their venture set up before opening their doors. So far, every night for the past had been like this night. Their guest list was booked solid and they had a line of people as long as the entire city block waiting outside hoping to get a piece of the action.

The energy and excitement hadn't ebbed for a single second since Verdant had her grand opening. While Oliver had been on the peripheral of the fun, he hadn't really been participating in it. He'd been too busy getting the club up and running to really let loose and party along with everyone else.

But tonight was different. Tommy told him to let loose, that one night wouldn't kill him.

"You deserve it buddy," Tommy had said to him at lunch that afternoon. "Especially since . . .you know . . ."

The Starling smile slipped for just a moment.

Laurel.

Laurel had finally chucked him. She hadn't been thrilled when Oliver announced that he was opening the club with Tommy. She thought he needed to grow up and do something more "meaningful" with his life. Laurel was on her way to becoming a public defender-working long days for low pay to help make Starling City a better place.

"And I'm making them a club," Oliver had argued. "The best club. Legendary. Show the people a good time so they can forget about their troubles."

Laurel had shaken her head. "Ollie, the people don't need to forget their troubles. They need to face them so they can make their lives better."

The fighting had started and soon Oliver was spending more time at the club and Laurel was spending more time studying and they drifted apart.

She had finally called it quits on their relationship. Oliver had been stunned. He hadn't wanted to break up, but at the same time his heart was no longer in the relationship. It had been the longest relationship he'd ever had. Even though Laurel wasn't his first girl, he'd probably count her as his first girlfriend.

Laurel was the first girl that he'd ever been with for longer than a month. He was the first girl he gave flowers to on her birthday. The first girl whose parents he met and the first girl he had over to meet his own parents. They had done all those couple-y things that two people in love do together. Oliver had said he loved her a few times, but he was never quite sure if he was saying it or just saying it back. He couldn't remember a time when their hadn't been a "too" added on the end of the sentence.

Then she had started talking about moving in; taking the next step, and Oliver had started dreaming about the club, with Tommy.

He still couldn't believe that Laurel would have broken up with him. He was Oliver Queen. A thousand girls would die for a single night with him. Before Laurel, he'd had been with dozens of women, all of them trying to prove that they were girlfriend material. Something had made him choose Laurel. He couldn't remember what it was. Maybe because she was effortless and confident and didn't seem to like him just because of whom he was or what he could do for her.

He winced, sort of realizing that a part of him was sad that things were over. He wasn't sure he would ever find another girl who was close to that.

"Tommy, it's been a day," Oliver shouted at him over the pumping bass.

"It's been more than that," Tommy replied. "You need rebound sex."

Oliver just laughed. Tommy was happier to have his wingman back more than anything.

"I need a drink," Oliver said.

Tommy nodded and they turned, flagging down one of the waitresses in the VIP area and requesting a bottle service at one of their best tables. He didn't waste anytime singling out a couple girls either and flouting their owner status to impress the two brunette beauties. Oliver sat back as one of the girls sidled up to him and introduced herself.

After half a drink, her hand was already falling against his thigh, her eyes inviting him in. Easy girls, who didn't care if he was a disappointment or irresponsible or a failure. That's what he needed. He flashed the Starling grin one more time and knocked back his drink in full. Yes, tonight was going to be one for the books.

.

.

.

Felicity was drunk. After their double shots of tequila she had ordered something fruity-rum might have been involved-and then Sara started talking to some guys who bought them more shots. They were green and syrupy; the waitress had called them Vertigo. They came in small vials off a hostess tray but Felicity downed the two she was given.

The air felt light and her body tingled. Feeling drunk was pretty awesome. She didn't know why she didn't do this more often. Not like every weekend, but once every couple of months. Just go out and let loose. She and Sara would have to make this a tradition.

She was talking to one of the guys leaning up against the bar, her words wrapping around her tongue a little more than usual. Her hand boldly pressed against his chest as she spoke. He grinned at her and then excused himself with his buddies, promising to come back.

Felicity spun around and landed in Sara's arms, giggles rumbling between them.

"This is fun," she whisper-yelled into her friend's ear. Whispering was difficult with the loud music pounding around them.

"Yeah," Sara replied. "Those guys are cute."

Felicity smiled. "He was really nice. And he listened to be babble about tech."

Guys who listened to her talk tech were high up on Felicity's checklist. They were few and far between.

"Trust me, he didn't understand a word you said," Sara laughed. "You're the only girl I know who can be wasted and still go on about html and computer coding with perfect clarity."

"It's my language," Felicity insisted.

"Well he doesn't speak it," Sara replied. "But you should totally hit that."

Felicity scrunched her nose. "I can't. If he doesn't know code he's not for me."

"He's a one night stand and he thinks you're hot," Sara insisted. "You don't need to know his name or anything about him. You just need to kiss him. Use tongue."

Felicity gave Sara a weak shove and giggled again. She was doing a lot of giggling that night. The DJ changed songs and Felicity's eyes went wide in excitement. "I love this one! Let's dance!"

Sara didn't even have to time to say no; not that she would have. She hollered loudly as Felicity grabbed her and pulled her in the direction of the dance floor. Felicity liked dancing. She usually only did it in the comfort of her own home, while doing the dishes or vacuuming. Sometimes in high school, she and Sara would have silly dance parties after a hard day, just to cheer up.

They pushed through the writhing bodies, not caring who they might be pissing off to get to the center of the action. Felicity raised her arms up over her arm and waved them over her body in time to the music. In the back of her mind, she knew she probably looked dumb. Sara danced around her, shaking her blonde waves and shimmying her hips like no tomorrow. Another song played and they stayed to dance again, the guys at the bar completely forgotten. Felicity was drunk and she was dancing and she was with her best friend. Who needed guys? She was Party Felicity.

.

.

.

Oliver eventually realized that there was a reason the girl had been so friendly so fast. He'd slept with her before-probably two years ago. Definitely before he was with Laurel, or at least before they were exclusive.

"Sorry," Tommy had smiled guiltily after they both realized his mistake. "My track keeping record is about as good as yours."

"No big deal," Oliver waved him off, taking another sip of his beer. Maybe he would just get drunk that night. No sex. He was already feeling pretty wasted. He'd matched the girls shot for shot back at the table and it seemed his nights of not partying had dulled his tolerance a bit. Laurel had said all he cared about was partying, but Oliver had gone almost three months without a proper night out. She could suck it. She didn't know him or understand him.

Then he saw a girl.

A girl that commanded attention.

She was hot. More than hot really, but better words weren't coming to mind. All he could see was blonde hair hanging over her bare back. It was a hot back. One that he wanted to touch. He wanted to slide a finger down the clicks of her spine and watch her shiver and shake and moan in her ear, one leg wrapped around his hips, while he was buried deep inside her.

"Whoa," he heard Tommy say. He'd see her, too.

"Dibs," Oliver called quickly, smirking.

"I'll _let_ you have this one, but only because you're getting back in the saddle and mixed up the first one. Enjoy." Tommy raised his bottle of beer in salute and turned away to let Oliver prowl.

The crowd on the dance floor closed in again, but Oliver kept his eyes in the direction he had seen the girl. His feet moved forward, entranced in the fog of alcohol and trippy music and lust. He could see her.. . .green clad arms and hands with painted finger nails thrown up into the air.

He pushed through the dancers until he was right there, her back still toward him, close enough to touch. Her hips swayed in a figure-eight motion, which sent his blood rushing far from his head. He attempted to keep his wits and cool.

There were two ways to play this. He could just start dancing with her-even though he wasn't much of a dancer, or he could . . .

"Hi," he purred in her ear, trailing a hand over her shoulder and hoping she'd turn to face him.

She looked him up and down and smiled when her eyes reached his face again. "Hi," she returned, beginning to dance again.

That was that.

.

.

.

There was a moment, a fleeting moment, where Party Felicity dropped away and regular Felicity took over, wondering if anonymous sex wasn't going too far. She didn't know who this guy was-hadn't even asked his name-but his eyes and the slight scruff on his chin and the way his body had filled out his pants and dress shirt made her forget to care. Then his mouth was on her throat and her back was against his front door and she decided not to turn into a pumpkin just yet. The night was not over and Party Felicity was still in full swing.

Wow, he had a way of kissing. It was brilliant. It was kissing that turned saints into sinners. The type of kissing that erupted volcanoes and sent the earth spinning. He sucked at her pulse point and Felicity let out a harsh moan. She loved when guys did that.

"Inside," she managed to stutter, shivering at the tone of her own voice.

He slipped keys from the pocket of his jacket and moved his hand under her arm to unlock the door while still kissing her. They almost fell inside.

Felicity knew stuff like this happened in other people's lives . . .or so she assumed. She'd seen it on TV and in movies hundreds of times; a couple so lost in the haze of passion that they could barely take their hands off of each other, frustrated tugging at clothes, kissing in between, tripping over furniture . . .

"Ow," Felicity gasped as her shin knocked into a coffee table. But she recovered in a blink and went for the buttons of his shirt, pulling them apart. It was a fantasy she'd always had and he seemed like a guy who could afford another button up. Her vision was blurry but the apartment looked nice. She could spot a big screen mounted on the wall and a leather living room set.

He laughed at her enjoyment in shredding his clothes and then tugged at her hem, dragging her dress over her shoulders. He had a nice laugh. She hadn't really been able to hear him over the noise in the club and they hadn't done much talking on the back of his motorcycle as they headed back to his place.

An expert kisser with a motorcycle and a body that could be on the cover of GQ; Party Felicity was definitely a great girl to be, she mused.

They made it to the bed and she crashed down, the guy landing over her, his hands trailing over her ribs and stomach. He kissed a path down her body and removed her underwear, pushing her legs apart, and laying kisses along her inner thigh. Then she was nothing but a pile of sensations . . .the blissful, orgasmic kind.

.

.

.

Oliver knew it was morning. He could tell the sun was up just on the other side of his eyelids. The light was causing a slight, stabbing pain between his brows. It was Sunday and he smelled…coffee?

He opened his eyes, the bedroom shifting into focus, and rolled over in the white sheets his arm reaching out. The other side of the bed was empty and he was still naked. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting himself wake up a little more before climbing out of bed. His eyes scanned the room and all he saw were his boxers. He grabbed them and pulled them on before opening the bedroom door.

The coffee smell grew stronger as he followed the trail of his clothes down the hall and through the living room to the kitchen. Tommy stood there with a cup in his hand. His friend wore a grin that was the equivalent of a high-five.

"Thank you," he said by way of good morning, "for making it into the guest bedroom last night and not my bedroom." He grabbed a black ceramic mug and slid it over the island counter in Oliver's direction. "Your girl started a pot before she ducked out of here. All I saw was this blonde mess of hair in a green dress running through the door as I came into the living room this morning."

Oliver poured himself some of the coffee. "So, I _did_ have sex last night?"

"I assume," Tommy replied. "Though I don't have any concrete proof."

Oliver blinked, shaking his head. "I just-I've never had a girl run out on me before I woke up."

An amused grin spread across Tommy's face. "Feeling a little jilted are we?"

Oliver shook it off. "No, it's just-" _just_ again, "Tommy that was the best sex I've ever had."

Tommy laughed. "Man, I think you're just saying that because you've been having sex with the same person for over a year. You know it's not a dry spell but I'm sure it can get boring."

Oliver set the cup down and put both hands on the counter, looking over at Tommy, who was leaning back against the stainless steel sink. "No, you don't understand. That was phenomenal sex."

"Even better than the Eriksson twins in '09? You didn't stop talking about that for a month."

Oliver's head tilted forward. "Eriksson twins who?"

He was being serious. Oliver had had a lot of sex in his young life. It hadn't been good when he was young and didn't know what the hell he was doing, but it had definitely moved up to great by the time he hit his twenties. Great sex was always on the menu. He'd done just about everything and anything a girl threw at him or asked for. But last night and that girl. . .he was floored. There weren't words. It had been white hot, every single second of it, from the moment he'd put her on the back of bike and rode off from Verdant to Tommy's apartment.

His friend nodded, impressed, and took a sip of his coffee. "And she makes good coffee," he remarked. "So, this was _supposed_ to be rebound sex, which by rules is supposed to be a one night stand but...if it was that good I say it's worth a second hook up. Specifically for scientific purposes," Tommy held up a finger. "You were _very_ drunk last night my friend so your judgment on the issue could be a little impaired."

Oliver's shoulders sank as he realized he hadn't gotten her number. He hadn't even gotten her name.

Tommy wasn't any help in that department. "Seriously man, she was bolting out the door when I came around the corner. I didn't even have the chance to say anything to her."

Oliver frowned. It was mind-blowing sex, but maybe Tommy was right. Maybe he was just out of practice because he'd been sleeping with only Laurel for so long. That sex was routine. He knew what Laurel liked. He knew how to get her off quickly or slowly, and after a point she wasn't always up for trying new things.

"I think they call that marriage," Tommy had joked once.

Well, at least he'd had the rebound sex he needed. It was fantastic . . .at least the parts he could remember were fantastic. The edges were a little fuzzy. When his daydreams started to send his blood south, he decided it was time for a shower. He finished his coffee and went about gathering his clothes from the living room and the hall.

His thoughts moved to the fact that it was his last day of freedom.

"Thanks for letting me crash here," Oliver shouted back at Tommy.

"No problem," he called back. "Just like old times."

.

.

.

"We're have you been?"

Felicity groaned, she still had residual headache from Saturday night. It was Monday now, and Sara voice was coming through the ear of cellphone as she drove to work.

"Dead," Felicity replied.

The drinking had murdered her. It was too much. Party Felicity was officially put to rest until the end of time. Maybe even after that. She set her phone down on the console and switched to the hands free feature that came with her car.

"Dead from too much sex?" Sara asked.

"Dead from too much drinking."

"So, tell me about the sex."

Even though Sara couldn't see it, Felicity rolled her eyes. "Do you have a one track mind?"

"Yes."

Felicity sighed, her thoughts rolling back to pre-hangover, and the cap to her Saturday night. The guy. She hadn't gotten his name. Blue eyes, short hair, just a tiny bit of scruff and a smile that made her knees jiggle. It had been amazing. The best sex ever. Not that she had had a lot of sex in her years, but it was the best so far. She had a feeling it would fill the void in many lonely nights to come.

"Did you get his name?"

"No," Felicity said. "But I doubt it would matter. A guy like that would not be interested in me. Remember . . . speaking the same language? He liked Party Felicity. Not Regular Felicity."

"I think I remember a conversation like that," Sara said. Her mouth sounded full, like she was in the middle of breakfast. Felicity was surprised that Sara was even awake so early in the day, but thought it might have something to do with her sister, who she was now living with. "So, you won't see him again. C'est la vie."

"C'est la vie," Felicity repeated.

Sara let her off the hook for the moment on the dirty details, though Felicity knew they were coming later. Instead she switched to talking about her sister. Felicity had only met Laurel a few times when she had come to Central to visit her mother. Sara and Laurel weren't very close, they had mostly kept in touch via phone or email as they grew up. It was a weird family dynamic, but Felicity wasn't one to judge. She didn't have a sister so she wasn't really sure how they worked.

When Felicity had told Sara about the job she'd been offered in Starling City and that she was moving, Sara decided to go with her. She'd decided that maybe it would be good to develop a better relationship with her dad and her older sister.

"I'm having lunch with her today," Sara was telling her. "She's been upset all weekend. She just broke up with her boyfriend."

"Oh, that sucks," Felicity lamented.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "I've never met him but they were together for like a year." They talked for a few more minutes and then Felicity was pulling into the garage of her work building. Sara made her promise to call her later and let her know how her first day at Queen Consolidated went. "And then you are giving me a play by play of your night with best-sex-ever. I want dirty details. _Very_ dirty."

Felicity grabbed her phone and dropped it into her bag then stepped out of the car, checking her reflection in the glass. She had done a complete one-eighty from her outfit on Saturday night. Her glasses were back and her curly hair was pulled into a smart, sleek ponytail. She wore a sensible pink blouse and a gray pencil skirt with ballet flats instead of heels. No one would recognize her from the way she had been dressed at the club on Saturday night. Sara was always impressed at the way she managed to look like two completely different people when she dressed up.

Felicity liked colors and fun accessories, but she was saving her Panda flats for another day. She tried to maintain her own style while still looking professional and she knew the day would be tough. There was the usual first day tasks of getting acclimated to the environment, remembering names, and learning how things were done, but there was also the added pressure of being a female tech person. Felicity was no stranger to sexism when it came to her field. It was annoying constantly having to prove herself.

She walked through the employee garage and headed to the lobby, stopping by the security desk. The security guard at the desk gave her a temporary pass into the building until she made it to the HR office to obtain her official one.

Dozens of employees were moving through the turnstiles, scanning their ID badges and flowing into the open elevators. She had never worked in such a large company before. Felicity had done some work at a few Internet start-ups throughout school and an internship at a marketing company, but none of those places had boasted more than twenty employees. Now she was a part of a well-oiled machine that employed hundreds across the country and overseas.

As she stepped into the elevator with a few other employees, she pulled her phone out again and scrolled through her notes. She was meeting first with Walter Steele, who was President of Queen Consolidated. He was the one who had hired her from M.I.T. She'd met him a couple of times. He was nice, for a man who worked in a very high position in a very prestigious company. It was probably the British accent that made him feel a little more comfortable.

She reminded herself of the floor that he was on and when the elevator stopped at the number she excused herself through the small crowd and stepped off.

The executive floor was a bit more opulent than where she would be working, she imagined. The offices were glass and the morning sunlight shone through in ethereal beams that made her think she had stepped off the elevator into the business lobby of heaven. Another receptionist behind another large desk called her attention.

"Hi," Felicity said pushing up her glasses. "I'm here to meet with Walter Steele."

The woman, who was about her age, smiled and then picked up her phone, calling to Walter's assistant and letting him or her know that his nine o'clock had arrived. "He'll be with you in a moment. Would you like anything while you are waiting?"

Felicity smiled. "A coffee would be great, if you have it."

The receptionist smiled back again. She was all polite smiles, her eyelids blinking just a little too much. "The executive break room is just down the hall, to the right. They won't mind you in here. Most of them are in the conference room already."

"Right," Felicity replied, but the receptionist had already focused her attention back on her computer. Felicity spun on her heels and headed in the direction she was pointed, finding the executive break room. Again, she thought, it was probably nicer than what she would become accustomed too down in the IT department.

She set her bag down on the table and headed toward one of the many expensive coffee machines. At least she would be drinking the good stuff that morning. She grabbed a dark roast K-cup and popped it into the machine, taking a white paper cup, and putting it in place before pushing the button to start the brew.

As the percolator rumbled she leaned forward onto her elbows. She was tired. The drinking and the partying really had taken a lot out of her. Not to mention that in between being sick as a dog on Sunday, she was still unpacking and settling into her new apartment.

A large yawn escaped her throat, a little too loud, and she didn't hear the man come in behind her.

"Hi."

She shot up and whirled around, grasping the back of the counter, as her other hand flew to her chest.

"Geez, you scared me-" she started then stopped. Her eyes followed a pair of grey pressed pants, up to a white button down shirt, covered in a grey suit jacket, and a pair of familiar blue eyes. "Oh, wow."

She was staring up into the eyes of the best sex ever.

"Wow," she repeated, for lack of anything better to say.

The guy was grinning at her, his lip curve up just slightly, a come hither tease. Did sex gods just always wear that smile?

"Felicity." Walter Steele's British accent interrupted her shock and she blinked, focusing on him as he walked through the door behind mystery man. "The receptionist said you would be in here."

"Yes," she replied, wondering how words were happening at that moment. Mystery man had stepped back to let Mr. Steele approach her. "I was just getting some coffee."

"That's perfectly alright," he said with a warm smile. "I see you've met Oliver."

Mystery man smiled at her, extending his hand. "Oliver Queen."

Felicity felt her heart stop one more time. Best sex ever had a name after all and his name was-

"Oliver Queen," she gulped, her finger pointing up to the ceiling. "As in the name that's on the building that we're in right now. _Mr._ Queen."

"No, _Mr. _Queen is my father," Oliver chuckled as she shook his hand. It was limp and robotic. Her mind went to where his hands had been the other night and she quickly took her hand back.

"Mr. Queen is your father." She repeated the words slowly. They probably thought she was dumb. So much for showing how intelligent and capable she was in front of the man who had hired her. She couldn't believe this was happening. She had slept with the boss' son. She was a walking cliché. "Triple wow."

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**Probably should mention that everything is unbeated, so apologies for horrible grammar and writing mistakes. Hopefully it won't deter any of you too much.**

**On to the next chapter...**

**all new stuff!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who commented on Tumblr and encouraged me to continue with this fic. This is entirely for you guys :)**

**Enjoy!**

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It was an early morning. Too early. This was why he had gone into the club business, so he could continue to be a night owl who sleeps until at least ten everyday. Oliver yawned, big and loud, as he stepped out of the elevator onto the floor that held the executive suites. One of the female assistants that had been on board with him giggled and he shot her a smile as he walked away.

It was his first day shadowing his father at Queen Consolidated.

That was the deal. Robert, his father, had given him a loan so that he and Tommy could start the club but in return Oliver had to spend his days with his dad learning how to run the family business. It was very 1950s, except that instead of the family business being a small nickel and dime store in the center of town, it was a multi-million dollar corporation.

Oliver had managed to push his father off for a while, but Robert had finally put his foot down last Sunday, telling him that a deal was a deal. He'd given Oliver the grace period to get everything up and running and now that it was it was time for his son to hold up his end of the bargain.

The day was going to be boring; Oliver knew it. This was why he hated school. He hated having his day planned out for him. He wanted to live in the moment and be carefree. He wanted to make his day plans on a whim, instead of adhering to a schedule and rules. He'd envied Tommy that morning, who would still be in bed.

As he was bemoaning the fact that he was now becoming part of the nine-to-five world of his father something caught his eye. His head turned as he walked past a small room-the executive break room-on his way to his dad's office.

He stopped at the sight of a nice, round, feminine ass and turned back, wanting to become better acquainted with the woman attached to it.

There was a woman in there, leaning over the counter, giving him a nice view as she waited for her coffee to finish brewing.

Oliver was still feeling the high of his best sex ever weekend. He was down about letting the mystery blonde slip through his fingers, but there were many fish in the sea. Screwing someone in the office was possibly ill advised, but Oliver Queen was an ass-man. He couldn't resist.

He walked up to her, pasting on his Starling grin. "Hi," he greeted, in his most charming voice.

The charm in the greeting was lost when she yelped and spun around, almost knocking the coffee-and everything else on the counter-over as she turned. He almost reached out to steady her, but thought better of it, as she put her hand on her chest to catch her breath.

"Geez, you scared me-" she was saying and then her eyes widened behind her frames and he heard her whisper. "Oh, wow."

Oliver was used to it. Most people in Starling City knew who he was before he introduced himself, especially when he was in his family's building. He fixed his smile again and took noticed of the pretty blonde in front of him. She was nice looking, even from the front. Maybe a little plain now that he saw her up close, pink and black glasses wrapped around her eyes. There was something familiar about her and she continued to stare at him, pink glossed lips hanging open just slightly.

"Felicity."

Oliver turned and heard the voice of one of his dad's partners or co-workers or whatever they were called. He couldn't quite remember the man's name, but he definitely remembered the accent. "The receptionist said you would be in here."

Oliver stepped back away from the girl, whose name was Felicity apparently, and let William?-greet her. Maybe she would say his name and Oliver wouldn't have to look like an idiot.

"Yes, I was just getting some coffee."

Damn, she didn't say his name. It was probably William, though. Weren't all British men names William?

"That's perfectly alright. I see you've met Oliver."

Oliver smiled at the girl again, trying for polite instead of flirtatious this time and extended his hand. "Oliver Queen."

"Oliver Queen," she repeated his name, like it was a surprise, and pointed up at the ceiling. "As in the name that's on the building that we're in right now. _Mr_. Queen."

"No, _Mr_. Queen is my father," Oliver chuckled as she shook his hand. She looked a little taken aback. Not exactly star struck. Maybe she didn't know who he was after all. He had to admit that was a little refreshing. Her handshake was limp, like she hadn't decided that she had wanted to shake his hand yet but was already doing it, then she snatched her hand back.

"Mr. Queen is your father." She repeated him again. "Triple wow."

A throat cleared next to them. "From what I understand it's both of your first days here. It's excellent to have you here with your father, Oliver."

"Thank you, sir," Oliver replied, turn his attention from the confused blonde. He really wished he could remember the man's name.

"Felicity," he said turning the conversation back again. "Shall we?"

"Of course, Mr. Steele," she stepped away from the counter, completely forgetting her coffee.

Mr. Steele! Now he had half a name. The girl didn't meet his eyes again as she rushed out of the break room with Steele following behind.

Oliver could have sworn he knew her.

He looked down at the expensive watch on his wrist. His father would be out of his morning meeting soon, and would be ready to see him. Oliver found it ridiculous that he had to pencil in time to meet with his own father, but at this point he was used to it. He reached out and took the coffee that the new girl had left behind and headed out to his father's office.

He had almost a half hour before dear old dad would be out of his Monday morning meeting, so he waited, bored and debated how pissed his father would be if he walked in and found him napping on the couch in the middle of the room. The office was glass, and offered little privacy, but most of the men and women who worked on the floor were in the meeting. Oliver remembered coming to visit his dad as a kid, in the same office, looking out the same glass windows at the blue sky and the vast expanse of city below. He liked to pretend he was a little prince that could fly and that the large Queen Consolidated building was his family's castle.

He would imagine slaying dragons in the sky and protecting his family from fearful enemies as his father would work at his desk. As a little boy, he had really run with the whole "Queen" last name when playing imaginary games.

The office was rather impersonal, for a man who had spent the better of three decades working out of it. His computer sat on top and there were a few papers and a large calendar spread out on the surface of the glass desk. It was pristine and clean and organized.

Stiff, Oliver thought. Like a white uniform shirt fresh from the cleaners.

Oliver's fingers trailed over the two picture frames that were on display in the corner; one was of his mother, Moira, and the other was a picture of himself and his younger sister, Thea. The picture had to be more than five years old. His sister's hair was long and she still hadn't started wearing makeup; even Oliver's hair was longer, the ends of it settling around his temples. The picture was posed-Thea on his back with her arms thrown over his shoulders with a fake woodsy setting in the background-but they looked genuinely happy.

He felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled out his phone. There was only one person he knew that would be texting him this early in the day. Tommy was asleep and he didn't really have any other friends.

Laurel.

He stared at her name for a few moments, his thumb hovering over the slide button.

Laurel had dumped him and now she was texting him just three days later. Perhaps she had forgotten as few choice insults to throw at him and was now remembering another; as if calling him childish and selfish and irresponsible weren't enough.

Their fight had been nasty, to say the least, full of low blows and nasty jabs that Oliver was certain she had been holding in for a long time.

Oliver let the screen go back and slipped it into his pocket, deciding to read it later. At that moment his father walked into the office.

"Good morning, Oliver."

"Good morning, dad."

Robert Queen was in his mid-fifties. He looked distinguished in his suit, salt and pepper hair that Oliver would probably inherit when he reached that age. People always said that he looked exactly like him. Their looks were where the similarities stopped though.

Robert believe in hard work, which was part of the reason Oliver was such a disappointment to him. At some point, the whole idea of giving his kids a better life than he had known had gone astray and resulted in a son who was selfish, unmotivated, and irresponsible. Oliver had eventually learned to ignore his dad's downcast looks and passive lectures. Each one was the same, like a rerun on TV. Oliver could repeat his father's lines if he ever grew too old to remember. From the set of the older man's jaw and shoulders, the way his eyes looked everywhere but his son, Oliver knew he was about to experience another one.

"How's the club coming along?" Robert asked, taking a seat behind his large desk.

Oliver turned and took one of the chairs opposite. "It's going great. Verdant is packed every night, we're always featured on page six, and we're consistently in the black."

His chest puffed up, chin squaring with pride. He knew his father had expected him to fail. He had expected Verdant to be nothing more than a pipe dream. But the two of them knew what they were doing. Tommy had a head for business and Oliver knew how to please people, together they made a great team.

"Well," Robert said, cutting into Oliver's prideful daydreams. "Venture's like this always have a good beginning. Your club goers are curious because they hear the name 'Oliver Queen' and want to be a part the action."

Oliver's confidence didn't falter. "I have no problem using my name and reputation to my advantage."

"Your reputation," Robert scoffed, shaking his silvering head. "Well, everyone does like to bear witness to a car crash."

At that, Oliver's smile fell. "You're calling your son a car crash? Very nice, dad."

"Should I lie to you Oliver? You're twenty-eight years old, but you behave like an eighteen year old. You care nothing but about partying and fame and money. You've never worked for anything in your life-"

This was where it always started, but it made him angry. Perhaps it was because he'd received the same coarse words from Laurel just days before. They still prickled and he was tired of hearing about what a fuck-up he was. Both of them were completely forgetting all he had accomplished in the past few months.

"Hey!" Oliver interrupted. "I work hard."

"At what? You've dropped out of four schools, you've never had a job of any kind, done any community service-"

"I have the club! A _successful_ club, I might add."

"You have a successful club because of my money and my name. The reason you and Tommy are 'in the black' every night is because you started there. You never risked anything. Oliver, you don't know what it means to really start a business. To put up your own money and to struggle for the first five years scraping by on savings and what little profit you make until you actually start bringing in profits."

Oliver folded his bottom lip under his teeth, his chin jutting out. "I see," Oliver said. "We're back to this. Back to the fact that I don't choose to live my life the way you want me to. My decisions don't count because they aren't the choices Robert Queen would choose."

"Oliver this isn't about what I would choose. You aren't a teenager anymore. I'm asking you to grow up." Robert sighed, bringing his hands up to the table and folding his fingers together. "I've come to a decision."

"And what decision is that?" Oliver bit out.

"I'm freezing your trust fund," Robert informed him.

This was new. This wasn't the way the script was usually written. "You're cutting me off?"

"Cutting you off from your safety net. But offering you a job. You can work here, at QC, as an intern. For intern pay. And you'll also be moving out of the mansion at the end of the week."

Oliver's eyes widened. "_And_ you're kicking me out? You can't do this."

"It's time you learn a different way of life, Oliver," Robert explained. "Budgets and calculated risks and responsibility."

"Dad, I-"

"If you don't want to quit, you can live off your earnings at the club, by all means."

"Maybe I will."

Robert leveled him with a look. It made him feel like a little boy. Not like a prince or a king, just a little boy who knew nothing. "I'll give you some time to decide. Perhaps you should check in with your business partner first and see how feasible that option will be."

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"I don't know," Tommy told him over the phone. "We're making profit, but not _that_ much. Part of the reason we've been able to make money is that neither one of us has been taking a pay cut."

Oliver scrubbed a hand over his face. After a brief phone call with his best friend he had had to tuck his tail between his legs and turn back into his father's office, accepting the intern position. He didn't have a choice. With his experience and skills, there was nothing else for him to do. He had no savings and Oliver Queen would be damned before he was flipping patties on the grill at Big Belly Burger downtown.

That was how he found himself in the line with all the other new employees, waiting to have his photo taken for his official Queen Consolidated ID badge. It was ridiculous. It wasn't as if everyone in the entire building didn't know who he was. This was just his father adding insult to injury.

After receiving his security passes, he would have to go through all the numerous first day things that all the regular employees went through: first day tour, lunch, first day training. There were a dozen new interns in the group, all of them a good five to six years younger than him, a few upper level management, and-

"Felicity Smoak, Information Technology Department." The blonde in front of him was speaking to the person seated at the computer, who was responsible for taking the photos and printing the ID's.

Oliver hadn't recognized the basic pencil skirt and pink blouse from earlier standing in front of him; he had been too busy brooding. Her ponytail swished behind her as she walked forward to stand in front of the grey rectangle sweep that was pulled down for the photos. The light hit her glasses, causing a glare.

"Would you mind removing your glasses Ms. Smoak?"

He couldn't believe how bad his life had gotten over the past four days. Dumped by his girlfriend, cut off and kicked out of his house by his father, and Tommy dropping the bomb on him that they weren't really making what he'd thought they were at Verdant. The only good thing that had happened to him was the mystery girl and the best sex ever.

He cursed inwardly, wishing at that moment that he'd gotten at least a name. Then maybe he would have had a slight hope of tracking her down. At that moment he could use a little pick me up. A girl like that had to be down for another round. Considering that she had run out of bed before he'd even woken up, he had to assume that she wouldn't be a clinger either or try to turn their sex into an actual relationship.

"On the count of three Ms. Smoak."

Oliver's eyes turned up, absently following the long legs of the IT blonde having her photo taken. They landed on her face and he found himself doing a double take, blinking at the girl standing just a few feet in front of him. She'd removed her glasses and slipped her hair out of the efficient ponytail, letting it fall around her shoulders.

The flash of the camera blinked, temporarily blinding him, and then the girl-Felicity-was stepping away from the lighted wall. Oliver watched her take her glasses from the counter and push them back onto her eyes, gathering her hair into her ponytail once again. The employee taking the pictures addresses her and then Felicity was walking out into the hall.

"Mr. Queen? Mr. Queen?"

Oliver ignored the HR assistant trying to get his attention and followed Felicity toward the door. He caught her elbow and tugged gently, turning her around to face him.

She jumped again and met his eyes, her face dropping in the same way it had in the break room that morning.

Now he understood the reaction. She was his mystery girl, his best lay ever, and she had recognized him right away when they met again that morning.

"Wow," Oliver said, echoing her earlier words.

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Felicity had nearly jumped out of her skin when Oliver Queen had grabbed her in the hallway. She'd noticed him in line behind her and kept her back to him, vehemently hoping that he would not see her.

Although, that didn't matter, because he had no idea who she was. He had no idea that she was the girl he spent the better part of a night and morning making her see stars. Part of that rankled, but another part of her saw it as a blessing in disguise. If she was the only one who was aware that she had fallen into the gross cliché of sleeping with the boss' son, then the secret would stay secret and eventually slip away into nothing.

Those comforting thoughts of anonymity were dashed as soon as Oliver had grabbed her elbow and spun her around. Recognition was exploding all over his face, little light bulbs coming to life over his head.

Felicity took a couple steps away and pushed at the corner of her glasses. "So, you remembered me? I guess sorting through the masses takes a bit of time."

Oliver shook his heading, blinking at her, still dazed. "Your glasses," he said.

"Huh?" Felicity asked, then realized what he meant, her hand flying up and pushing at the corner of her frames. "Oh, I didn't realize they really were that big of a disguise. I guess Clark Kent did have the right idea."

"Who?"

"Superman?" Felicity provided, but Oliver wasn't catching the reference. "Look forget it."

Felicity turned from him and headed down the hallway. It would be a lot slicker of an escape if she knew where the hell she was going. She darted down a hallway that ended up being dead end. When she turned back, Oliver was standing there, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Where are you going?"

Felicity wasn't one to admit she didn't know. "Just...exploring. I'm new and I've never been in this building so I wanted to get a look around."

He sauntered toward her, his steps lazy and effortless. "I could give you a tour."

Was he flirting with her? She had to shut this down fast. She wasn't that type of girl. "I'm good thanks," Felicity sighed. "Look, we don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Be friends or talk or whatever. You don't have to feel bad about...you know. You're absolved." Oliver stared at her blankly, blinking his grey-blue eyes at her. "Forgiven. No harm done."

"I know what absolved means," Oliver countered. "I'm just wondering what I've done that needs forgiveness."

It was Felicity's turn to blink in confusion. "Um, sleeping with me, forgetting who I am…" Felicity realized there was a disconnect of decency standing in front of her. Sleeping with girls and forgetting who they were was probably not a big deal to him because it was something that happened all the time.

She realized she must have been drunker than she thought not to recognize Oliver Queen. Then again the club had been dark and they'd only spent about a minute dancing together before they were making out. In the morning after his head had been turned away from her and she had been so embarrassed by her behavior on top of her hangover that she wanted to get out of bed as soon as she could.

Felicity had kissed him with her eyes shut tight. Maybe a little too tight.

"You know what," she closed her eyes and took a breath, pasting on a fake polite smile when she opened them again, "just forget it. We drunkenly slept together, it happens to you all the time, me not so much, but it can be left at that. Seriously. We never have to speak to one another ever again. Unless I get pregnant." Oliver's face went ghost pale, cheeks dropping, and Felicity's hand flew up in front of her as she quickly backpedaled. "Not that I'm pregnant. It's literally too soon to tell, but it would be pretty impossible considering the fact that we definitely used protection and I'm on birth control cause I have this hormone thing, not that you need to know that and I'm just going to stop babbling about pregnancy and hormones like a psycho in 3...2...1."

Oliver let out a shaky chuckle, still a little unsettled by the mere mention of pregnancy. His eyes flicked up away from her for a moment as he caught up with her mile-a-minute ramble and the tension in the air settled. Felicity mentally chided herself for her rambling, but stayed calm and cool.

"I guess that settles it then," Oliver said.

"Yeah," Felicity replied, shifting on her feet. She folded her arms in front of her stomach. "This can be a secret right? You're not going to like brag to your boys or whatever, right?"

Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking her, and smiled. "Brag to my boys?"

"I know how guys like you are," Felicity explained. "Notches on the bed post and all of that. Yours must be whittled down to a toothpick."

Oliver shook his head, his grin growing bigger. "I'm not sure if I should be offended or flattered, Felicity."

She caught herself, realizing that this was the son of the boss, and corrected. "No judgment, Mr. Queen."

"Please call me, Oliver." He laughed. "And no, I can keep my mouth shut."

"Good," Felicity replied with relief. "Thank you."

"Ms. Smoak, Mr. Queen." The office manager that had been overseeing their orientation poked her head around the corner of the hall, calling their attention. Felicity nodded demurely at Oliver and stepped around him, following the manager.

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"I don't want to break up."

Oliver was tired, it had been a long and tedious day, and so he wasn't sure if he heard Laurel correctly. He'd finally answered her text and she had asked him to come over that night after he got off work. He'd agreed, though he wasn't sure why. After the morning with his father, he'd certainly had his fill of being told off.

Then Laurel had answered the door, and invited him in for dinner, and was now saying something about not wanting to break-up.

"That's a surprise," Oliver said. "Because I'm still the irresponsible, selfish, asshole I was four days ago. Just ask my father."

Laurel let out a sigh. "Ollie, I love you. I don't want to break up," she explained. "But maybe a break would be good. We're growing into two different people and I think we both need to finish growing and then be together."

"What does that mean?"

They were seated on Laurel's plush white couch. Her dark violet afghan was thrown over the back. She shifted up, pulling her legs underneath her, the way she always did when she had something serious to say to him.

"I don't want to be with anyone else," Laurel said. "I want us to be serious, you have your moments, but I want us both to be the people we want to be before we move forward."

Oliver was trying to keep up, but he didn't understand her train of thought. "So…"

"So let's take some time. I'm not going to date anyone else. I'm just going to focus on my new job at CNRI-"

"You got it?" Oliver asked.

Her serious face broke into a proud smile and she nodded, brown hair shimmering in the low light of her apartment. "I got it."

The City Necessary Resource Initiative was a non-profit law firm that was located down in The Glades, Starling City's less fortunate half. Laurel had been volunteering and interning there since her sophomore year of college, hoping to get a job with them once she graduated. It was her dream job.

"Wow," Oliver said, staring past her.

He had never felt more like a loser. The day his quasi-girlfriend was getting her dream job, he had been demoted and kicked out of his house. He glanced back at her and noticed she was waiting for a better reaction from him.

"That's really great," Oliver said, trying to work up a convincing tone of congratulations. It seemed to have worked. She was moving forward on the couch to hug him. Oliver wrapped an arm around her waist.

She settled back and continued their conversation. "I'm sure I'll be busy, and you've been busy with Verdant and Tommy and now working at QC. So let's just cool it for a while. We'll be together, but we won't be. We'll have time to work on ourselves for the future," Laurel reached out and took his hand. "I know this is scary for Oliver Queen to hear," she looked into his eyes, "but I want a future with you, Oliver. A real one."

Oliver gulped. He knew what she meant by future. She wanted marriage, maybe not in the near future, but within the next couple years he was sure. Oliver knew she was exactly the girl that a guy like him should marry. Even his mother had nudged those thoughts into his head from time to time. Laurel was gorgeous and smart and poised.

"So not a break-up, just a break?" Oliver asked.

She nodded. "Just some time. I think it will do both of us some good. Take the pressure off."

"Okay," Oliver said. They finished their dinner and wine and then Laurel sat back on the couch, with her feet in his lap, and talked about her new position at CNRI. Oliver managed to keep the focus off him-not wanting to share his _great_ news-and Laurel started talking about her sister.

She never mentioned Sara much, who lived in Central City with their mother. Laurel was telling him how she had moved back to Starling recently, tagging a long with her best friend.

"She just got a job at QC, actually," Laurel mentioned. "Maybe you met her."

"Maybe," Oliver replied absently.

"Sara was raving about her. She's a computer genius," Laurel said. "Her name is Felicity Smoak."

Oliver's stomach dropped and he was glad Laurel couldn't see his face at that moment.

She was rolling over in his lap and put her hands on his face, but he wasn't in the room. He was back at QC, recalling the banter in the hallway that afternoon. Laurel was straddling him but all he could think about was how small the world was and how one day it was going to fuck him over.

"Ollie?" She was saying his name and he finally looked up at his face. "Are you okay?"

He blinked and let his comfortable smile fall into place, his hands coming up to squeeze her hips. "I'm good. It was just a long day."

Laurel smiled down at him, brushing a hand through his hair. "Well, I was think about one for the road, before we start the break."

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. He fell into the routine of the motions as they kissed on the couch and then the kissing moved to her bedroom. His body was there with her but his brain was still in the living room, thinking about how his best sex ever was not only Queen Consolidated's newest IT girl but also his girlfriend's sister's best friend.

Of all the girls in the world to sleep with, he had to pick Felicity Smoak.

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Dinner that night was take-out Thai. Felicity still hadn't gotten around to unpacking her kitchen. Sara sat at the breakfast bar next to her kitchen in one of her cheap, wooden bar stools as Felicity unpacked the food and grabbed a couple sodas from the fridge. She was still suffering post-traumatic stress from her hang over and didn't even want to look at alcohol for the moment.

Sara twisted in the chair as they talked about Felicity's day at Queen Consolidated. Her friend liked details, so she started from the moment they had gotten off the phone that morning right up until Felicity clocked out and headed home for the evening. Of course, she skipped everything about Oliver. Felicity wasn't quite ready to discuss that yet, still feeling embarrassed.

Instead she focused on her position. She would be working on the fourth floor in the dark IT cave. Her eyes glossed over when she talked about the availability of technology at QC and the brief that Walter had given her of the company's Research and Development department.

"Will you get to work on anything they're developing?" Sara asked.

Felicity shook her head, breaking apart her chopsticks and sliding them together to get rid of any splintering bits. "No, I'm just a lowly IT grunt. I'll be running around fixing email issues and virus problems and reinforcing security."

"But you could always switch departments, right? After you've been there for a while."

"Maybe," Felicity shrugged. "Someday." She took a seat kitty-corner to Sara in the other barstool and dug into her Pad-Thai noodles. "Tell me about lunch with Laurel."

"It's weird being in the same room with her," Sara replied. "We talk easily on the phone, but it's just . . ."

"Different?" Felicity supplied.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "She talked a lot about her boyfriend. I just listened."

"So, talking a lot runs in the Lance family."

Sara gave her a look. "Says the girl who's middle name could be 'ramble.'" She teased. "I guess she's supposed to have dinner with him tonight and tell him that she doesn't really want to break-up. That she just wants a break."

"You think he'll go for that?"

Sara shrugged, shoving an entire Crab Rangoon into her mouth. "He's a player," she continued between chewing, "I think Laurel is afraid that he's getting nervous about commitment so she's trying to give him space. But she loves him so she doesn't want to let him go. She's trying to tame the beast."

"What do you think?"

"I think," Sara swallowed her food. "That a tiger can't change his stripes."

"Agreed." Felicity said, cracking open the top of her soda can. She took a sip and they ate a few bites in silence.

"Oh, hey," Sara said, swallowing another large bite. "I almost forgot the best part!"

"What?"

"Laurel's boyfriend...he's Oliver Queen. As in the heir to Queen Consolidated, your boss' son."

Felicity almost choked on her food. She dropped her chopsticks into her noodles, her stomach dropping to her feet. "What?"

Sara nodded. "Crazy, right? Small world."

Felicity somehow managed to swallow the half chewed bite in her mouth. Oliver Queen aka best-sex-ever aka the big guy's son aka Laurel Lance's boyfriend. "Very small," she replied. "You have no idea."

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**I tried to write a lot of parallels between Oliver and Felicity in these two chapters. One of the things I really want to explore in this fic is that they are very similar in that they feel the unconscious need to live up to what people expect of them while also putting up walls, each in their own different ways.**

**I also imagine that Oliver looks like Oliver on the show and not so much like pre-island crazy wig Oliver. And still has the same awesome bod. We'll get to why later, I've worked in an explanation into the plot :)**

**Hope you guys liked the first two chapters. Drop me a review or comment, maybe? Those are always encouraging or helpful.**

**follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Wowza! Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed after the first two chapters. I'm blown away. There are some awesome Olicity writers in the fandom already and I'm glad you guys are taking a chance on me and my fic and welcoming me with open arms. I appreciate it.**

**Little bit of a short one, but more character set up. Enjoy!**

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As it turned out, Felicity realized that she had been worried for nothing. An entire week passed and she didn't see one glimpse of Oliver Queen. She was down in the tech cave, and he was in one of the floors high above doing . . . whatever it was that Oliver Queen did at Queen Consolidated. She wasn't sure, but she imagined it was in an office with sunlight and near a break room with good coffee. Didn't QC realize the value of caffeine to programmers?

Felicity's life was falling into routine. She was at work by nine every morning, coffee in hand, and security tag around her neck. Since she was the new girl, she was mostly relegated to the grunt work that no one else in the department wanted to deal with. Her day included running from floor to floor, office to office, helping with computer issues-most of it was as easy as turning the systems on and off. There were a few copy machines to be fixed, phone lines to be rerouted, and servers to be updated.

She shared a small office with another guy named Gary, who was round faced and shy, and barely looked up from his screens when he was around. His desk was decorated with tiny model dragons and he had a bowl cut that looked a little greasy under the blue light from his screens.

Felicity had brought a few trinkets to set on her own desk: there was a picture of her and Sara from a couple years ago in a purple frame and a little blue buddha looking pig, with a great big smile on it's face. Felicity had bought it a street fair because it looked so silly and made her laugh. Sara had dubbed it happy pig and said that it held the power to make her day better with just a single touch.

After giving Sara some brief details about her best-sex-ever, she had been able to put Oliver Queen out of her mind and focus on her work.

Her head was buried in her computer screens, pen in her mouth, when she heard her name being through the fog of code running through her head.

"Felicity Smoak."

She peeked her head over her screen, pulling the pen from her mouth as she recognized Oliver standing over her desk, a smile on his face.

"Um, yeah, what can I do for you?"

There was a laptop under his arm. He pulled it out in front of his body. "I spilled a latte on it," he explained. "I was told you were the person to see about recovering information."

Felicity pursed her lips. Were they being professional now? Nothing more than employee and boss? "Okay, yeah. Have a seat," she responded. "Let's have a look."

Oliver set the laptop down on her desk and walked over to extra chair that had been cast haphazardly between the two desks. Instead of pulling it to the front of her desk, he dragged it around, and positioned it right next to her chair. Felicity shifted a bit, uncomfortable at the invasion of her space, but said nothing as she attempted to hook the latte drenched computer up to her system and get a read on it.

"It shut off and I tried to turn it on, but there was a spark," Oliver explained as he took his seat. Felicity could smell burnt milk and espresso wafting up from the keyboard. She hooked up her cables and attempted to get a read from the motherboard.

"Nothing," she said and closed the machine, flipping it over. She opened the small drawer at the top of her desk and pulled out a tiny screw driver; with deft fingers she unscrewed the small screws around the back, popping off the back casing so she could access the motherboard of the computer.

Milk was already crusted inside the case, yellow and sour. Felicity scrunched her nose. "Not looking good," she diagnosed, poking around a bit more. "Yeah, definitely not good."

"What is it?" Oliver asked, his voice full of concern.

"Well, you might have been okay if you hadn't turned it back on after you spill on it, but you fried the motherboard. Electricity and liquid do not make a great couple. This computer is completely dead. It needs an entire overhaul."

Other cursed to himself. "Well, how much is that going to cost?"

"Probably about $1,200." Felicity answered, ticking off the list of fixes that the now defunct hunk of machinery would require. She noticed Oliver looking a little sick. "I mean, $1,200 bucks is chump change, right? That's probably what you spend in a day."

It was meant as a joke, but he wasn't laughing. "Not exactly chump change. Not anymore."

Felicity looked over at him. A completely different person than the one who had walked into her office was now sitting in the chair next to her. His eyes were staring out into space, distressed, brows pinched together.

She spared a glance across the room at her office mate. He wasn't paying any attention to them, locked into whatever he was working on with large headphones covering his ears. Her fingers pushed up at her glasses and leaned a bit closer to Oliver.

"What do you mean?"

Oliver sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "This is so embarrassing."

"More embarrassing than finding out you've accidentally slept with your boss' son?" Oliver let out a single laugh at Felicity's attempted joke. "Yeah," he said. "My dad cut me off."

"Wow," Felicity replied, her fingers drummed against the desk. "Not to overstep, but umm, you own a club-"

"That's not making enough money to support me," he snorted. "Or so I'm told."

"You work here . . ."

"As an intern."

"You're right. That is embarrassing," Felicity affirmed. Oliver laughed again, the sound of it a little bit fuller this time. He rested his elbows on his knees, letting his head drop between his shoulders. Felicity decided to take pity on him; something about seeing him legitimately concerned struck a chord within her. "So, you don't have $1,200 laying around to pay for a laptop you massacred. Maybe I can help."

He looked up at her. "You can?"

She nodded. "I have some spare parts at my apartment. I could fix this up. No one who matters will notice it's not top of the line condition unless they bust into it and since it's unlikely anyone will . . . "

"You can fix this?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I've been building computers since I was six. This is nothing. You're just lucky that I have the parts on hand."

Oliver looked at her like she was offering him a bonafide get out of jail free card. "Thank you so much," he said, falling against the back of the chair with a relieved breath. "You have no idea what this week has been like for me."

Felicity pressed her lips together and smiled. "No problem, happy to help." She replaced the back of the laptop and tightened the screws again, slipping it down into her messenger bag. "I'll try to get to it tonight. But for the rest of the day, you're running analog."

"I owe you," Oliver replied.

"You do," Felicity agreed. "A month of lattes should cover it. I like mocha with whip."

She flashed him an innocent smile.

"Deal," Oliver said.

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"You know what this means. You aren't allowed to have sex with anyone."

Thea Queen was perched on his bed in her pajamas, watching while Oliver packed some of his clothes and things into a duffle. He was being kicked out of his childhood home, and Tommy had agreed to let him crash in his guest room until he had enough money to get an apartment of his own.

Oliver tossed a t-shirt into her face. "You're seventeen years old, what do you know about sex?" Thea opened her mouth but Oliver held up a hand to cut her off and shot her a serious, big brother look. "The answer to that better be 'nothing.'"

She gave him an innocent grin. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," she replied. "For real though. That was the subtext of the entire conversation with Laurel. That's what breaks are. You're technically not in a relationship but you still are because you aren't allowed to sleep with other people."

"Whatever," Oliver said. "Laurel is the least of my worries right now."

Thea sat back on her heels, pulling one of the oversized decorative pillows that sat on top of the bed over her lap. "So, I guess this means the annual father-son yachting trip is off this year."

In the midst of all the arguments with Robert as of late, the trip had completely slipped Oliver's mind. He and his father had always taken a sailing trip right before school started from the time he was eleven. They had kept up the tradition through high school and then long after; even though some of those college trips Oliver remembered bringing a girl along, so the actual bonding time between him and his dad had been a little reduced.

"Hell, no," Oliver answered firmly, taking the t-shirt he had thrown at her and shoving it into his bag. "As far as I'm concerned, he and I are done."

Thea didn't reply, instead she sat and watched him as he continued to pack. She didn't want to be in the middle of things. Thea had Oliver's wild streak, but it was more tamed. She was still young and their mother did a little bit more to govern her behavior than they had with Oliver.

"I heard him and mom fighting about it the other night. . ."

"I don't care," Oliver replied.

"You know it's not real. Like if something really bad happens you can always come home or ask them for money."

Oliver wasn't so sure about that. His father had been abundantly clear about cutting him off financially in every single way and said that his mother was on board with this new plan that there were forcing onto his life.

Thea frowned. "When am I ever going to see you? You're working all day at QC and then all night at the club."

"We'll have lunch on the weekends."

"What about Thriller Thursdays?"

Oliver chuckled. Thriller Thursdays was their tradition. They always got pizza and sat on the couch watching terrible unsolved crime shows until they couldn't keep their eyes open. "Those we might have to reschedule."

Thea peeked up at him, deep brown eyes framed by long lashes. "You could always let me into Verdant."

"Ha ha," Oliver replied. "Nice try, not a chance."

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Oliver hadn't forgotten his deal with Felicity. But he hadn't had time to make a trip down to the IT department that morning. He'd been late into work, after closing down Verdant the night before. His dad had frowned at him when he showed up fifteen minutes late to a meeting about some merger he was requested to attend and take notes during. Instead of pay attention and note taking, he spent most of the time staring at his phone.

It was almost lunch time when they were finally dismissed and Oliver nearly knocked over his chair trying to get out of the conference room.

"Oliver," Robert Queen called after him. "Just a minute, son."

Oliver's shoulders sagged and he walked back to where his father remained seated at the head of the long glass table. "You do realize that if you get fired from this job, you'll be on your own finding the next one."

"Are you firing me?"

"Your supervisor tells me that you've been having some troubles," Robert told him.

Oliver scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Some two-bit office manager isn't going to fire Oliver Queen."

"That," Robert pointed at him, "right there is what I'm talking about Oliver, this attitude of entitlement. You don't feel the need to earn anything and that needs to change. I'm trying to give you this chance to change it and you are fighting me every step of the way."

"Why can't you just accept who I am?" Oliver asked.

"Because you aren't the son I had hoped to raise."

The confession struck Oliver like an arrow to the chest. His defenses raised and his eyes darkened, not wanting to let his father see the hurt his opinion caused him. He was done trying to live up to Robert Queen's standards. "Well, maybe you aren't the father I wanted, either."

He spun on his heels and left the office. "Oliver, that's not what I meant-"

"We're done," he snapped, before storming away to the elevators.

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Felicity came back from lunch to see Oliver Queen hovering over her desk, a white paper cup steaming in his hand. He was snooping around her things and didn't notice her standing in the doorway. One of his fingers was tracing over her turquoise happy pig.

"Please," she said, making herself known, "step away from the tech while beverage is in hand. You can't be trusted with lattes around electronics." Oliver looked up and gave her a smile, but she noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. She glanced at the coffee. "Is that for me?"

"One mocha latte," Oliver replied extending it toward her. She reached for it, but just as her fingertips brushed the cup, he pulled it back. "Assuming you have something for me."

"Ah, yes," Felicity said. She walked toward her desk and moved around him, reaching into her messenger bag and pulling out his laptop. "Purring like a kitten and now milk and espresso free. I couldn't recover the hard drive though, that was completely fried. But I made sure it was connect to the QC network, so just make sure you save everything there, that way if there are any other incidents occur you won't lose everything."

Oliver sat the latte down on her desk-far away from the computer-as she slid it toward him. "I have no idea what you just said."

She quirked an eyebrow up over her glasses, as she sat down. "What?"

Oliver shrugged. "I'm no good with computers. I didn't take any computer classes at the four colleges I dropped out of."

"What do you know about computers?"

"I can turn one on . . ."

Felicity dropped her head into her hands. "People like you baffle me," she groaned. "You were born in the 80s! You experienced the growth of technology and the birth of the internet. How do you not know how to use a computer?"

"I'm not a nerd," Oliver replied.

"This is why the meek shall inherit the Earth, we embrace technology," Felicity muttered, the reference completely going over Oliver's head. "Sit," she instructed. "I will teach you the language and customs of my people. You will never get anywhere in life without knowing computer basics and how to use the internet."

She nodded to the chair in front of her desk and Oliver took it, pulling it around to sit next to her so he could face the various screens surrounding her desk. He appeared to be a little intimidated, and Felicity recalled hearing from a few office gossips how Oliver had struggled to use even the copy machines without some help. "Don't worry," she told him. "We'll start slow."

"I'm not sure it matters much at this point," Oliver admitted, running a hand through his short hair. He slouched back in the seat.

Felicity peered over at him across her shoulder. He looked like a guy with a few thoughts he needed to get off his chest. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There isn't much to say," Oliver told her. "Just another reminder from my father about what a disappointing fuck up I am."

"So stop being a disappointing eff up."

Oliver raised a brow. "Eff up?" He chuckled. "That easy is it?"

Felicity nodded. "Yeah, it is.

"He just doesn't understand me," he tried to explain. "We don't see eye to eye on anything. He doesn't get who I am."

"Well, do you get who you are?" Felicity asked. Oliver thought about it, trying to decide if he did. He knew who his father thought he was: nothing but a disappointment. His mother thought he was someone who needed constant attention and affection. His sister looked up to him, the way all little sisters look up to their big brothers. In her eyes, he made no mistakes.

When it came to Laurel, she changed from loving him to trying to mold him to be something else. Tommy seemed to like him just the way he was, but Oliver wasn't even sure he was himself with Tommy at least half the time. They both played their media roles, as playboy sons of multi-millionaires, and sometimes Oliver couldn't remember when the acting stopped and when the realness began.

"Look," she continued after he didn't answer. "If you are okay with yourself and your values and your goals in life, and you aren't like, murdering people or robbing banks, then the opinions of others shouldn't really matter. Anything anyone might say can just roll off your back."

She made it sound so simple. "Values . . . goals . . ." Oliver repeated. "I'm not really that kind of guy."

"Everyone has things they care about," Felicity urged.

"I guess," Oliver said. "I'm not great at talking about this kind of stuff."

"Well, I'm pretty good at listening and I only hang out with computers, so who am I gonna tell?" She smiled. "If you need an ear . . ."

"Does that make us friends?"

"I guess so," Felicity shrugged. "At least we wouldn't have to worry about the whole When Harry Met Sally men and women can't really be friends sexual tension thing. We've already had sex. Been there, done that, maybe we should get t-shirts? 'I had great sex but all I got was this lousy t-shirt.'"

Oliver cocked his head at her. "You're saying the sex was great?"

Felicity stuttered. "It was-I mean it was fine."

"Fine?"

"It was alright, like maybe an 8?"

"An 8?"

Felicity let out a long, flustered sigh. "I'm gonna stop talking about it now. We are never going to bring it up again. Friendship rule number one. No talking about the night we met. We'll just pretend we met here, at QC, in the IT department when you asked me to save your latte drenched computer." She shook her head and adjusted her glasses. "So, computers?"

Oliver conceded and stopped teasing her. "Computers," he echoed, sitting up and listening to Felicity as she attempted to educate him.

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Felicity was more than happy with the clock struck five on Friday. It had been a long week. She hadn't gotten much sleep between fixing Oliver's computer woes and trying to help Sara find a job in Starling City. Her best friend was found wanting when it came to employable skills. At the moment, the best thing they were hoping for was a bartending job. Sara definitely had the looks and the skills for the that line of work.

As she stepped out of the elevators and made her way into the parking garage her phone rang, Sara's picture popping up on her caller ID.

"We're going out tonight," Sara declared before Felicity even had a chance to say hello.

"What?"

"You have to get us into Verdant again," Sara told her. "Ke$ha is guest DJ-ing tonight. Please!"

Sara had loved the pop star ever since a guy she was dating once said that Sara looked like her. Felicity had assured her that she was much prettier, but maybe with some more glitter and runny eyeliner she might bear a slight resemblance. Sara had been going through a Jack Daniels phase at that point in her partying career.

"Are you sure that you should be going to your sister's ex-boyfriend's club? What happened to solidarity?"

"What Laurel doesn't know won't hurt her," Sara replied. "So, can you hack our way in again?"

Felicity thought of a few reasons why she probably shouldn't, but instead she said, "Sure, why not?"

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**.**

* * *

**I threw in a few Arrow references for funsies and changed them up a bit. Also, I'm not a tech person at all so the latte spill is moderately inspired by the time I spilt milk and cereal on my own laptop. Took it to the guys at Apple and basically had to get it replaced. They gave me a "get out of jail free" card and fixed it for no charge. **

**There's going to be some mischief next chapter and also something a little sad. You may be able to guess at it. **

**Also, I'm trying to think of a way to include Diggle in the fic, because I love him and his arms. Maybe he can at least make a cameo. **

**See ya next time.**

**follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


	4. Ugh, Hiatus

Hey guys!

Ugh, I really hate doing this...I almost NEVER do this. There is only ONE other story that I've ever posted that I've decided to not continue and it kills me. As a reader, I know it's the most annoying thing in the world and I feel like I've violated some sort of sacred author/reader code in doing this.

I've decided to put this story on hiatus.

Two reasons:

One) The thing is, I've maybe jumped the gun on posting this story. While I had plans for the next couple chapters, I sat down to think about the over all arc of the story and what I wanted to tell and what I wanted the characters to go through, I started to realize that it sounded an awful lot like another fic I'm a fan of. And I adore that fic and writer! Every time I came up with a plot point, I would quickly realize how similar it was and then try to start from scratch. And I keep coming up with nothing because all I have in my head is someone's else's fic and I don't at all feel comfortable writing something so similar to another story.

Two) I had hoped to write something as sort of a fun break in between the two other monster fics I'm writing currently. I reckoned a nice little rom-com story would be easy-ish to write. It would be if I could get my brain to think of a way to write it. But it's not working.

I do have other long fic ideas for Olicity...ones that I was putting off because I knew they would take some work and I don't have time right now to work on THREE long/intricate fics.

So for now, and quite possibly forever, this one is at a stand still. I will mostly likely continue to write Olicity one shots until I finish my other two fics (which are close to being done).

My deepest and most regretful apologies. I appreciate each of you who have favorited/commented/shared this story and I hope this doesn't put a huge damper on our relationship.

Thanks + Love.

xoxo,

Katie


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